Fried Noodle Hot Dog
by RubyYuki
Summary: It's almost as if fate led you to that arcade on an early autumn October morning. The question is, can you help your friend recover from her self-deprecating thoughts and really show her what she's worth to you?


The crisp fresh air of autumn fills my nostrils as I step out of the student dorms early in the morning. I'm usually one to sleep in, particularly on the weekends, well past the crack of dawn. However, for whatever godforsaken reason, I found myself unable to get back to sleep after waking at sunrise. Thus, I decided to at least make the morning a little less groggy by going into the city to get some coffee and bakery sweets for breakfast.

An uneventful train ride to the shopping district brought me in front of the coffee shop, its pleasant bouquet of toasty caramel wafting around me, warming the cool and stale city air. I step through the threshold of the cafe and a small bell rings above me. I opt for a black iced coffee and a cherry danish and head out of the shop to walk around the seldom busy streets.

It almost feels like strolling through a ghost town at this point in the morning, which gives me perspective as to why there are early birds like Enju. The city really is breathtaking at this time of day. It's calm, relaxing, and-

I find myself falling to the ground as someone unexpectedly runs into me from around a corner. A young kid, no older than Myu and Cy quickly jumps to his feet and apologizes. "I'm sorry Mister, I have to hurry; she's going to break the record in twenty minutes and win the tournament. Need coffee!" And with that the kid runs off faster than he ran into me. Still dazed on the ground, I push myself off the sidewalk and stand up. My iced coffee miraculously survived, but my pastry had flown into the street. I turn my head in the direction the kid ran from and sure enough a congregation of people are lined up into the street.

Well, whatever this is about, it better be worth losing my danish over. I hastily make my way over to the group of people standing around a shop window. Using my ninja skill to hide my presence, I slip through the crowd and look up from the center of a group of people who are all staring at a large television set suspended by a rod connected to the ceiling of the establishment. Unable to see around taller people in front of me, I slink further in and find an opening in the corner of the store. Finally able to get my bearings, I notice that I'm actually standing in an arcade. The television is set up like a stadium scoreboard in the center of the entertainment complex and is showcasing a fighting game between what seems to be two players.

The two characters jostle and jump on the screen, but I see no sign of the people controlling them anywhere. "This is so exciting!" A guy standing next to me says.

Wait, why does he sound familiar?

I glance to my right. Sure enough, Johnny is standing there next to me, intently staring at the monitor. Apparently too distracted to notice it was me next to him. I don't know if I should be offended or grateful. Regardless, he finally looks over while I'm staring at him and a surprised smile pops up on his face. "Hey bro!" He says with what seems like sarcastic enthusiasm, until he lets out a very loud yawn.

A couple of people briefly glare over at us, but I ignore them. "What's going on here?" I ask, hopeful Johnny will be useful and provide some information.

He switches his stance and leans up against an old school arcade machine next to us, something with a yellow circle and ghosts on the side. He switches his glance between me and the television. "The new installment of Fighting Hero Saga came out at midnight, so the arcade held a tournament for 64 players." Johnny pauses to stare at the game and throws his hands up in frustration. "Should have hit him with the A-X-B combo, she had a half second opening on the kick back." The screen shows a female fighting character unleashing a fury of attacks on a larger male character, with the big brute somehow dodging them all.

Johnny continues. "This is the championship game. It's a best of three. Snow Queen won the first round and Nooby won the second." He slumps his shoulders and a sad expression passes over him. "I was in the quarterfinals, but lost my match because my hand cramped dude!" He hangs his head in shame, as if I believed he would have won without his muscles seizing up on him.

Okay, that's pretty harsh. I'll just hit him with a joke instead. "Should have stretched it more." I take a sip from my coffee and pat Johnny on the back all chummy-like.

Johnny is now ogling my iced coffee as I return it to my side. "Where did you get that coffee?" He pleads. Clearly he needs the caffeine because as the light shines from the street through the window of the arcade I can see heavy bags under his eyelids.

"There's this nice little cafe around the corner, can't miss it." I instinctively offer Johnny a sip of it. Thankfully, he refuses.

He takes a step towards the exit and the crowd in front of us. It looks and feels more crammed than when I arrived. "I'm going to run and grab one real quick so I can stay awake for the rest of the match and the train ride home. He turns his back to me, but I call out to him.

"What if you miss the end?" I can't imagine Johnny would be too happy if he stayed here for seven plus hours only to miss the last game of the tournament.

"This match has been going for over an hour, I'll be back quick!" He squeezes through the crowd and then shouts back. "Save my spot!" He dissipates into the crowd and vanishes out of sight.

Shrugging, I turn back to the television. It's getting more difficult to see with people packing in like sardines, so I scout around.

No one is watching, so I leap onto the arcade machine next to me so I can sit atop and see.

I can spot two people in the center of the room with controllers in their hands, sitting back to back so they can't see each other's movements. Small monitors are in front of each of them, however the guy playing and facing my direction, who I presume is "Nooby", is blocking the person behind him. I could move to get a better look at this "Snow Queen" person, but I'm far too lazy to get up and navigate this sea of people without a guarantee of a good place to watch.

Surely enough, the match is over not more than thirty seconds after Johnny is gone. Definitely saw that coming I think with a smirk. I glance up at the screen and see the brutish character standing atop an incapacitated female assassin. The words "Winner" flash across the screen. I divert my attention away from the television as chatter starts up and people begin to file out of the door with the festivities now finally over. The guy who was facing me has his hands above his head in celebration. A few of his friends surround and congratulate him, further obstructing my view of the loser.

Oh well. I'm hungry, and I hear a pastry calling my name at the cafe. Maybe I'll eat there so I don't lose another to a careless passerby.

I hop off the arcade machine and run my hand along the cool metal panel on the side. Carrying my coffee, I join the mass exodus heading out the door. I can feel the warmth of the sun heating my face as I reach the threshold.

I turn to glance at the game screen one more time, and that's when a glimpse of silver hair catches the sun and my eyes from underneath the hanging television.

Ricka stands with tired eyes before the celebrating kid. She offers a congratulating nod and extends her hand in an offer of good sportsmanship. The kid returns the gesture and pulls Ricka into a hug. She seems to be caught off guard for a second but keeps her cool composure. However, I can see a hint of pain in her eyes and redness in her cheeks.

Standing just before the threshold to the outside world, something holds me back from leaving without going over to Ricka. I prepare to head over to her, turning my heels to match my body, facing in the direction of center stage. That's when her light azure eyes meet mine.

She stands there for a second, shell-shocked, before lowering her head. She bends down and begins collecting her things to leave, paying me no mind. I cautiously move towards her, like I'm trying not to scare off a stray puppy. I wordlessly bend down and grab the light-blue controller and hand it to her. Our hands graze as she takes it from me. But she thinks nothing of it.

I carefully consider my words. "Good job Ricka! Second place is amazing for an eight-hour tournament." I give her a gentle pat on the back for encouragement as we both stand up.

She slings the strap of her bag over her shoulder and turns to me. Her expression is stoic, but her voice is tired and cold. "Disappointed. Should have won." She gives me a halfhearted smile and then steps around me to leave.

"Second not good enough... I'm never good enough."

Her voice, just barely a whisper, echoes into my ears as she passes. I stand frozen as she ducks her head and pushes past me to the exit.

My heart feels like it was pierced by an icicle. I turn and see Ricka through the window of the establishment, roaming down the sidewalk with her head still down.

There's no way I can leave it like that. I rush out of the arcade after her. Almost colliding with a woman pushing a stroller, I spin by the carriage and rush to my friend as she turns the corner towards the street where the train station is located.

I catch up to her and grab her hand. My fingertips instantly go cold as if I'm touching a snowball. She defensively turns around. "Wait." I say to her, catching my breath a little from the quick sprint. I can tell from the look on her face that she really doesn't want to talk to anyone. That she wants to be alone. Or maybe she's just tired.

Gently, I tug on her arm. "Follow me." I softly demand, offering her a tender smile.

She's reluctant, but takes a step towards me and silently nods. Clasping my hand around hers I stroll with her in the opposite direction. She speeds up to stay by my side as we match step-for-step in complete silence.

Morning pedestrian traffic has picked up considerably from earlier. The shuffles and taps of footsteps against the concrete drowned out the thumping of my heart as Ricka and I sidestep around slower walkers while still keeping our hands intertwined. Our mutually understood verbal tranquility is interrupted by loud conversations about a baby, some jewelry, and groceries all jumbled together into a blur of sounds, with only bits and pieces leaking out into our ears. The drumming of car tires rolling by on the asphalt and the hissing of city buses complete the cacophonous orchestra of our urban environment.

After a couple more blocks of our hand-in-hand stroll, we have finally reached our destination. I tug Ricka's hand a little with my own to signal that we've arrived, so we both pull off to the side of the walkway. I had been saving this place for a special occasion to take out the whole Ninja Seeking Club as a group event. But it seemed more important that I take Ricka here, just the two of us. Ricka goes white and clutches onto my arm with her vice-grip strength. "Why? S-s-some joke?" Confused, I glance up at the sign. 'Haunted Halloween Shop'. Oh, a pop-up Halloween shop with ghosts and goblins in the display window, that explains it.

"Sorry Ricka, that's not where I was planning on going. Don't worry, aren't going in." I say, scanning the shops around me for the correct establishment.

Ricka loosens her grip a little. "We- we-can go in, if you want. Not scared." Her cheeks are tinged red and her arms are shaking ever so slightly as she grips my hand tighter.

I can't help but grin at her. "No, I have somewhere for the both of us." Spotting the restaurant I wanted to take her to a little further down the street, I point to it. Ricka's shoulders slump a little and her grasp onto me loosens. She lets go of my arm, but our hands stay connected as we walk the few extra steps.

"Ninja Akasaka?" Ricka cocks her head at the name of the restaurant which is barely noticeable next to a coat of arms and an inconspicuous door. If it wasn't for the occasional person coming in and out you wouldn't even know there was an active place of business inside. I reach for the door and pull it open for her.

She gives me an imperceptible nod and lets go of my hand. I can tell she's analyzing all of her surroundings right now, probably calculating at least five escape routes. Which, I hope will not become necessary.

I follow her inside and we come up to a receptionist donned in an all-black ninja outfit with a stereotypical red headband. The restaurant is dark with cobblestone veneer on the interior walls. Open flame sconces line the walls every twenty or so feet down a pathway with steps that bend around a corner. The air feels comfortably damp, like how it feels when you step out of a refreshingly cold shower. Ricka turns to me both confused and slightly amused, judging by the smirk she's trying to hold back. "Looks like place Suou-san would take us." She whispers into my ear with merriment. Stepping up to the receptionist, I reach into my pocket and discreetly pull out some money before handing it to them. They silently bow, grab some menus from behind the podium, and backflip away from us. I motion for Ricka to follow and we start walking behind the twisting and somersaulting ninja who is acrobatically travelling down the steps.

"Dangerous? Could be real ninjas." Ricka whispers into my ear.

I shake my head. "Nah, just acrobats and gymnasts." Even though it is dark I can see the faintest hint of red as we pass by one of the flame lit sconces on the wall.

Barely avoiding waitresses and waiters donning similar ninja outfits, the receptionist shows us our booth that is intricately carved into the cobblestone wall. A dim lamp hangs from the ceiling, and a small white candle rests on the table inside a miniature glass katana to add additional light. Ricka and I slide into opposite ends of the booth and stare at the menus.

It's only about 11, so I'm not too hungry, but I imagine Ricka is starving having not eaten all night. Ricka's expression is emotionless as she scans the menu, until she catches me staring at her. The orange flame of the candle illuminates the blush staining her cheeks. Then, she slaps the menu on the table confidently.

"What are you going to order?" I curiously inquire, knowing well that this is not a place with fried noodle hot dogs.

"Fried noodle hot dog not on menu. Must have secret menu like coffee shop." She says self-assuredly. She clasps her hands on the table and just stares at me as if she won some chess match between the two of us.

A waiter approaches the table before I have a chance to respond to Ricka. I wave him over to my side and secretly slip him some money. This whole thing will probably cost me a good chunk of money, but it will be well worth it. I quickly whisper some instructions to him and he gives me a nod. He takes our order and of course Ricka asks for her fried noodle hot dog off the "secret menu". Because of my instructions, the waiter complies without question and goes off to submit our orders. Or in the case of Ricka, go pick up her order from a shop down the block that's known widely for excellent fried noodle hot dogs.

Silence consumes the two of us for several minutes. We sit, just observing our surroundings, taking in the ambiance and radiance from the atmosphere around us. Until Ricka breaks the stillness.

She glances at me and a frown slowly creeps onto her face. "Why?" Classic Ricka. Quick and to the point.

I think for a second to determine how to word everything properly. "I wanted to." Ricka doesn't seem particularly thrilled or satisfied with that answer as the reflection of the candle light dances in different spots on her diamond hair clip. But I'm saved by the bell as the waiter arrives with our dishes balanced on his head and arm. He tosses the plates and they land perfectly on the table in front of us. As we glance back up at him from our meals, he's mysteriously gone.

Ricka seems to have forgotten what we were talking about as she stares down at a massive, and honestly very visually appealing, fried noodle hot dog sprinkled with red pickled ginger and green sesame and seaweed flakes. She picks it up and takes a cautious bite.

She freezes and her eyes go wide. "This." She quickly takes another bite and swallows. "Best noodle hot dog in history." I can't help but smile as Ricka thoroughly enjoys herself as she savors each morsel with pure bliss and ecstasy. I finish my soup fairly quickly, but as I put my spoon down in the bowl, I see Ricka staring at me. "Might need seconds. Too delicious." She lets out a soft burp and hides her head in embarrassment. "Maybe not." She whispers with her head down on the table.

I reach my hand across the table and rest it on Ricka's arm. She peeps up at me briefly, and then sighs as she regains her composure and her usual stoic expression reveals itself once again. I swallow the lump in my throat. "Ricka, I know you're not happy with how your tournament went." She frowns and recoils her arm out from underneath my hand.

"No need to discuss. It's fine." She says stubbornly.

I shake my head and let my resolve take over. "No, it's not fine." I say with conviction, even slightly raising my voice. Ricka seems taken aback in surprise. And, well, I don't blame her for that. I awkwardly remove my arm from her side of the table and place it back on my side. "Ricka, you are good enough. Without your strength and dedication, we lose the club to the owner's stupid selfish plans. Without your video game reflexes and patience, the old hag probably never becomes our ally. And without your kindness and heart, well, when we first met... you probably kill me or bring me back to my village." I let out a deep breath I didn't know I was holding. "Ricka, what I'm saying is that... you're to me what a fried noodle hot dog is to you." I glance at her, and she remains silent, her face as apathetic as I've ever seen it. "You'd never be my second choice." I slide out of the booth and pick up the check the waiter dropped off unnoticed. "I'm going to go pay this." I say, waving the check book in the air.

Making my way up the steps in embarrassed silence, I feel my hand being pulled back. I spin around and am met by Ricka's azure eyes. "Corny." She says with a grin. "Laughed for a couple seconds." She tucks a couple strands of silver hair behind her ear. "But appreciative." Then, I feel our eyes lock.

Her pupils dilate and I feel a flush of heat overtake my cheeks in the dim flickering light. My heart skips a beat as her hand reaches for the back of my head. I can sense the rise and fall of our chests as one as she guides my face towards her puckered lips. Our lips part and intertwine as one as we melt into each other. I feel Ricka get closer to me as she leans against me more aggressively.

I reach for her back as her hair tickles my cheek, but feel it slap into someone else. I cautiously pull Ricka away as the receptionist stands close by next to us in the tight hallway and awkwardly coughs. Ricka and I glance at each other and can't help but chuckle. She reaches for my hand and caresses my wrist with her thumb. I pull her close and we traipse lightheartedly up the steps, leaving the grumbling employee behind us.

After paying the bill, we step back outside and let our eyes get adjusted to the light as we shield each other from the sun's rays. Ricka immediately yawns and grows red. "Sorry. Not boring. Carb overload. And no sleep since before tournament." She says with a pout as she leans against me.

I can't help but laugh a little. "I figured. I'll walk with you back to the dorms." I offer, wrapping my arm around her.

She turns to me with a megawatt smile. "Thank you, fried noodle hot dog." She gives me a quick peck on the lips with her own, and starts to stroll towards the train station as I stand there in confusion.

"Wait!" I call after her. "That's supposed to be my line!" I rush to catch up to her and grab her hand.

And we intertwine our fingers once more. This time, without the cold.


End file.
